four times it almost happened
by fuzzyvonpretty
Summary: Four times it could have happened. At least, Andrew thinks so. Mid-ep for 15x15.


If Andrew thinks about it, really thinks about it, there were probably times it almost happened _before_ the drunken kiss at Alex and Jo's wedding. Maybe they were both sitting in the lounge after surgery one night and he held her gaze a little too long. Maybe she was sitting up with him in her living room after Sam left and he made a move in his sad, drunken haze. Maybe, while he was high on cookies, maybe he tried it then, he thinks.

He's adding them to the list in his brain, because his brain is quickly bleaching the memories of the _actual_ almost-misses. He runs them over and over in his head, thinking about just how badly he wants it to stop being almost.

It's been months since this started, weeks since they first really kissed, and probably eight days since the situation became… untenable.

The first almost was, obviously, in the elevator. He runs it over and over in his mind as to where it might have gone. The signal doesn't chime and the doors don't open. He says "wow," again, many times, as he pushes her up against the elevator walls and kisses her senseless. He hears a moan in the back of her throat and it flicks a switch in his brain, turning this from flirtatious to primal. Hands sneak under scrubs and…

The second was the day after his first, accidental solo surgery. Riding high turned into collapsing in an on-call room. Well, he concedes, the collapse was probably aided by hearing Meredith's sisters talk about the party Link supposedly saved the night before.

"That man, he's basically chiseled out of stone and delivered to Meredith, and then the stone comes to life and saves her son's birthday party and plies her with wine," he heard Amelia say to Maggie by the nurse's station in the ICU.

Andrew prides himself on not being reactionary. He'd never take a swing at someone for no reason, and he'd never start yelling unless someone was in danger. But in that moment, he felt a hot spring of jealousy coil up inside of him, twisting his stomach. _So that's why she didn't come celebrate_, he thought to himself. _She'd rather be with the new guy, the one who hasn't slept with her sister, the one who isn't her subordinate_. He'd slipped into an on-call room, took off his shoes, and lay down on his back on the bottom bunk. Sleep wasn't coming, but at least he could savor the quiet.

Until the door opened and Meredith walked in. Her face was buried in her phone and she had an inscrutable look on her face.

"Oh! Deluca! Sorry, didn't know you were in here." She looked embarrassed, almost, like she had been caught. "I was just going to rest my eyes for a minute. I can go."

"No, no," he stopped her. "It's fine. Let me hop up top, you can take the bottom." He stood and straightened himself, arching his back as he went – not realizing just how close Meredith was. The hand holding her phone had fallen to her side and she was looking up at him, face still inscrutable.

"Deluca, you should really get some rest," she murmured. "Not in the bottom bunk, or anything, but you should." She stared him down – as much as she could – and he smiled at her, in his quiet way.

In his mind, he takes advantage of his proximity and captures her lips, kisses her in the on-call room without a care in the world. She grabs at his lab coat and pushes it off his shoulders, turns him around and pushes him onto the bottom bunk. She follows him, running her hands up his chest and while he pulls up her scrub top…

In reality, Andrew knows, he hopped up on the top bunk, Meredith passed out on the bottom, and just as he got the inside of his head to quiet down, he heard a godawful snore from below. He looked down, just to check to see that Glasses or someone wasn't asleep in a corner – but no, that giant sound was coming out of that tiny person.

The third time was after their first actual date. Not a rooftop with wine in Solo cups, but a restaurant out by the lake. At least, that's what was intended.

She drove – after all, she's Meredith – and as they drove and talked and skimmed each other's hands over the gearshift, he saw her façade start to melt away.

They came to an overlook and Meredith pulled over. Andrew looked at her, confused.

"I don't want to sit across from you in a restaurant and learn about your childhood in Italy." Andrew, startled, looked up at her. "I mean, I do," she followed quickly, "but really, I don't want to be around people. We're always surrounded by people. Friends and family and strangers. Can we just talk, you and me, right here?"

"You want to get me all alone, Dr. Grey?" he asked, smirking. She whacked him lightly on the arm.

"In a manner of speaking." She turned off the car, signaling for him to get out, and, not for the first time, he marveled at how much he didn't want to take control of the situation. She was in charge and she clearly liked it; he was on the back foot and he freaking _loved_ it. He was the one pushing and he was the one putting it all on the line, while she coolly, calmly turned his world upside down.

They sat on the hood of her car, talking about childhoods and her kids and his time as a paramedic. They danced around their tragedies – this was, after all, a first date – and made light of what they could.

They lay on the car hood after the sun set, watching stars come out. Andrew threaded his fingers through hers and pointed out constellations, painting a picture of an idyllic childhood in Italy with a father who loved him and cared enough to show him the stars, covering the part of his heart that carried innumerable, incalculable scars from that same man.

"Your memory of Italy is a lot sharper than mine," Meredith laughed, a genuine laugh. "My memories of studying and traveling there are blotted out by ouzo, limoncello, and a lot of dancing on tables. I'd be amazed if I could retrace a single evening I spent there."

Andrew smiled and turned to look at her. She was already looking at him. Their whole relationship, it seemed, revolved around these longing glances and one looking after the other, just missing eye contact. It seemed surreal to meet her eyes so readily, to know that she was listening to him.

He found himself overwhelmed in that moment, bridging the small gap between them and kissing her. Her hand came up to rest on his cheek, and he traced his finger along the outer edge of her ear.

"Not here," she pulled away suddenly. "We're gonna fall off and we will feel very, very stupid when we do." In a haze, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the backseat. Her eyes flashed at him and he took her in his arms, pulling her into his lap. He ignored the toys on the floor and the stroller behind them in the trunk – Meredith was a woman, a free woman with needs, and she was moaning above him and slipping her hand between the buttons on his shirt.

Andrew's hands drifted up her sides to her collar, dipping a hand underneath. She was warm and yet impenetrable; her bones were a brick fortress. His fingers traced down to her shirt and began to slowly undo her top button. In his mind, he heard his sister.

"Really, Andrew, you're going to sleep with your _boss_? On your first date with her? She has kids, a family, a complicated life. You're really going to… wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am?"

Andrew pulled back, and Meredith gave him a _look_. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing heavy, her hair mussed, her lips swollen. He leaned in again – this time, kissing her softly, holding her at arm's length.

"This is our first date, Meredith. I need to at least _feed_ you." She tilted her head back and laughed – again, a real laugh. "We've missed our reservation, but I know another place we can try." He pressed a kiss to her neck and smiled. "If, you know, you'll let me drive."

She did let him drive – but only so she could stare at him while his strong, masculine arms guided them to a tiny diner outside the city where they shared a plate of pancakes and gave each other lingering eyes over their coffees.

In his mind, Andrew knows where that could have gone. He blocks out Carina's voice and undoes all of the buttons. He angles her down onto the seat, kissing down her clavicle and stomach until he reaches the top of her jeans. He smiles up at her, looking at her dark, undone eyes and heaving chest while he slowly undoes the top button of her jeans and drops a kiss just below her navel…

He shakes his head at the memory and the fantasy. Here they are, on an actual date, and they're surrounded by everyone they know in her sister's boyfriend's apartment. Meredith's sisters, her best friends, their families… and all he wants to do is get her alone. He feels practically possessed as he pulls her into Jackson's guest room and brings his lips to hers. When did this go from being an innocent crush on his boss to this all-consuming need? He knows the promise of tonight is lighting him up, keeping him just turned on enough to feel like he's on fire, but just in-control enough to not take her right then and there.

Like he says, he's burning her image into his head. He's realistic and he knows that this probably won't last. Unlike the last one, she's not going to get deported, unless she's left a lot out, but someone – most likely, one of them – is going to get in the way.

He can't believe how lucky he is to know her – on any level – and so he's got to memorize it. Memorize her face as he cradles it in his hands; memorize the smooth swoop of her neck as he kisses his way down; memorize the feel of the curve between her hip and her waist as he runs his hands along it.

They're probably missing her at the party – the family, the sisters, the friends, the acolytes. But for now, he's happy to let this be the last time it _almost _happens. Because it's happening tonight. Because he's only got a few hours until he knows her – really knows her. Sees her unsheathed in the moonlight and undone.

He can wait. It's been a lot of almosts. Maybe, just maybe, they might move past almost.


End file.
